a steady blade balances the soul. / private and selective genji shimada of overwatch. personals, please do not reblog.
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@swiftlystruck
a steady blade balances the soul. / private and selective genji shimada of overwatch. personals, please do not reblog.
you’ll never know. adios. ( private sombra of overwatch, written by syd. personals please do not reblog. )
like diamonds, we’re built with time; we’ve come a long way to change our minds / loved by sydney, ft. human cleric, tiefling monk, dullahan rogue, and more!
Now your brother refuses to admit that I'm cute >:I
“What the—” A beat, and then he turns. “Hanzo. Is this true? Are you blind? Can you not see that Hana is clearly the cutest out of all three of us?”
@simple-geometry
"Here," she says while holding a gift bag out for him. "Since you got me something for Valentine's Day, I figured it's only fair that I got you something for White Day!" Hopefully he'd like her homemade kimchi; she made sure to include an extra bottle of hot sauce in case it wasn't spicy enough for him. And if that didn't turn out well, maybe he'd enjoy the newest Nintendo system, new Zelda game included. Naturally, she had a back up if all else fails: a Crisis Moon Compact locket to match hers.
Genji blinks, his surprise hidden behind his face plate. He’d forgotten all about White Day—which was unusual because more often than not, he was the one worrying about it. “Hana-chan, you didn’t have to get me anything!” There’s a brightness to his voice that makes his smile easy to imagine, and Genji tries not to seem too eager as he reveals each gift in turn.
He says little as he lays them all out, though he can’t stifle the little gasps and hums of excitement as he realizes what it all is. Fingertips trace over each one in turn: the container of kimchi, the line of the box for the Nintendo switch, but he lingers longest on the Crisis compact and doesn’t hesitate to pick it up and turn to her.
“Help me with this?” He passes the locket and turns so his back is to her. He’s quiet as he waits, but then adds: “We should play this game together. I can think of no other way I would like to spend my White Day than to share it with you.”
paps
simple-geometry.
He’d begun running as soon as he was out the door.
His bag smacked against his back, the wind whipping past his face like a thousand needles pricking his skin. Snow was falling but his body flared with too much untranslatable energy to notice. Every noise around him blurred together, seeming so much louder than before. His feet pivot in the snow-covered sidewalk, turning into a park. It was near empty so late in the night.
It’s only when his the cybernetic man is in front of him once again that sound ceases to dizzy him. Now, everything was still, silent, only a ringing in his ears slowly shaping into the man trying to speak to him. He’s asking him a question. He’s saying his name. He’s apologizing.
I’m so sorry aniki.
As if he did something wrong.
His breath leave him in long, slow bursts of chilled air, staring at the metal hand that was extended to stop him, then the arm it bonded to, then the face is belonged to. Again, he’s looking at his brother face, a mess of scars, a viciously torn visage that he had gnarled, that he had destroyed like something so d i s p o s a b l e.
The snow became so much colder. His body felt paper thin in the wind, as if it would tear at the slightest touch. He was shaking but could barely move, only lifting his hands to hug his arms with no effort to brace for the wind. He can still hear that voice. A ghost.
What had he done?
“B…Brother…” he could barely hear himself speak - he sounded a million miles away, as if seperated from his body, shaking so badly his speech follows the rhythm, the image of Genji laying cold on the ground, “Otōto…I…you can’t be real…”
He doesn’t know if the words could even be heard - as they stumble from his lips he feels the short-lived warmth of tears slide from his dark eyes, the sensation so shockingly surreal he doesn’t know how to make them stop.
Ten years. He hadn’t cried in ten years.
All the times he had imagined this second reunion, he never imagined it going quite like this.
Hanzo shaking, almost winded, too pale, and... It’s not what Genji had been expecting. And then the tears come, and Genji is shaken. In that moment, he’s twelve years old, clinging to Hanzo’s arm, begging his aniki to tell him what’s wrong. Just as scared to see his stoic brother crying then as he is now.
“Hanzo—I, I am so sorry. I did not...” He reaches, wants to grasp, but stops, forces himself to withdraw. “I thought... did you think that our meeting in the spring was a dream?” He mentally berates himself for that. No doubt if he had stuck around, tried to speak to Hanzo, his brother would have been more accepting of his existence.
“I promise, I am real. And I promise, I am not here to scold you or hurt you. I just... I want a relationship with my aniki again. I want you to know I forgive you.”
This time, when Genji reaches out, he allows his hand to make contact with Hanzo’s elbow. He curls his fingers, holds fast, and gives a gentle but insistent tug. “Come on, Hanzo; let’s get out of the snow. Your tears will freeze to your face otherwise. Do you want frostbite?”
smooch the bf !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
simple-geometry.
Spitting the blood that swelled into his mouth to the side, it was a mixture of his own and Kouzuki’s. It was interesting to see the other man get so physical, considering Hanzo recalled him being quite the coward when it came to raw violence. He was the ‘slip poison into gracious wine’ type - the only reason he took a shot at him now was because the person he was striking had little means to fight back.
Hanzo’s eyes dart to his brother, seeing him practically beaming with pride. He knew full well Genji wouldn’t be effected by the insults, but that didn’t mean he was gonna let the old man get away with spouting them so freely. His lips twitch up a bit, almost chuckling when he hears the enhanced electronic drone his brother so spitefully slipped into his voice.
Kouzuki’s attention turns to Genji when he speaks, a glare settling as he stands and moves closer to the machination of a fallen Shimada.
“I fail to see anyone resembling the sparrow in this room, only a makeshift creation in his image. Genji died with honor when he didn’t deserve it, much like Lord Shimada would have wanted,” he says even when he knows the insults aren’t effecting him as much as he’d like. “I never feared him. He let his emotions get in the way of his work, of our work. Hanzo did the right thing, no manipulation involved. If anything he’s been manipulated by outsiders pretending they know what’s best for him – “
“Stop speaking of me like I’m a child, Kouzuki,” a bit of blood still dripped from Hanzo’s lips still. “I can’t sleep at night knowing the things I’ve done for this clan - and you dare stand there and preach like you know what’s best? I’d trust a wild wolf before I ever trusted you again.”
Despite the words against him, Kouzuki smiles, chuckles even, though it’s very bitter, “You ended up so much like your father even with every barrier we placed to keep that fate from you,” he looks back at Genji, “you became your mother and that is a far worse fate.”
“I’d hate to spoil anything for you boys - but I think you’ll find it far more difficult to be so disobedient when we’re done with you both,” he moves to the door, sighing as he leans against the doorframe, “It’s unfortunate that things came to this…but it seems we have no other choice. We won’t let the dragons be used for anything but our deeds from now on.”
He’s gone after the final word. Hanzo’s eyes dart to Genji, “He’s lying. He has to be.”
The words are only words. Genji has endured them in some form or other in the past, usually from his own mind. Kouzuki throws them his way, and Genji sits serenely. His mind drifts from the conversation, paying enough attention that he won’t forget what’s being said but not enough that the abuse will sting. Instead, he hears Zenyatta’s voice in his mind, calming him. Talking him through. Be at ease.
Hanzo’s voice pulls him back to the moment, and Genji once more focuses, his full attention concentrated on both sides of the conversation. Kouzuki’s threats are troubling, and Genji remains silent, not speaking another word until Kouzuki leaves. He immediately turns to face Hanzo, mind whirling with this new information. “I do not know, Hanzo,” Genji says wearily, “I was a part of the Shimada-gumi’s dismantlement five years ago. I know a lot of what was going on with them; I know that there was talk of them joining forces with an organization called Talon...”
He shivers, thinking back on all he knew of that wretched organization. He relays as much of it as he can to Hanzo, including the way they had infiltrated Overwatch by kidnapping and brainwashing the wife of one of their own into a sleeper agent. “If the Shimada-gumi are working with Talon, who’s to say they will not do that to us? Turn us into quiet, obedient heirs, just as they always wanted?”
His tongue clicks, the way it always does when he’s annoyed, and Genji settles into a meditative pose, head bowing. “I am going to try summoning my dragon,” he says. “It would be wise for you to attempt the same.” Genji quiets fully then, slipping into meditation easily, and he searches for that familiar spirit that’s always watching over him. At first, she is impossible to find. The drugs are still working through his system, but eventually, she’s there, swirling, glowing green all around him. He lets out a relieved sigh, allows her strength to course through him, and Genji grunts, strains, and eventually breaks his bonds with little difficulty.
“Idiots,” Genji says, coming back to himself. He still feels Yuu there, knows that she is with him until they have finished this. He flips open the cap of his forearm and shows off the rows of shuriken within. “They took only what they could see from me, but... it is imperative I get Ryuu Ichimonji back, and you need Storm Bow. We should attempt reconnaissance as we retrieve our weapons and see if we can find out what their plans are.” He pauses, head tilting as he stands. “Did they answer you, anija?”
angelarivm.
Despite the chiding, the tone, his arm around her is a welcome comfort and she allows herself to be scolded for a moment. It means concern for her. She stifles the urge to defend herself once more. I can do the same work as two people. It would be wasted breath and a fight she doesn’t have the energy for right now. Not with cool fingers trailing up and down her arm.
When he leans away she goes to protest but his words stop her. Blue eyes peer up through blonde lashes. He’s surprised a smile to her lips and a flush to her face. She tucks her bangs behind her ear to try and occupy the nerves that tingle.
“I was very… worried. When we met the first time after it all.” She’s remembering the day at the cliff. The regret that threatened to swallow her open mouthed.
“Thank you. For giving me another chance. I don’t believe I’ve ever told you that.”
Their eyes meet, and Genji feels nothing but warmth and affection in his chest. He remembers how things used to be, how he and Angela had butted heads on more than one occasion, to the point that their interactions had been limited to necessary check-ups. That feels like a million years ago for Genji; who he had been then isn’t who he is now, and he knows Angela knows that.
He chuckles a little and ducks his head. Her eyes are suddenly too intense, and her gratitude flusters him. “You had every right to be worried,” he admits. He knows the rest of Overwatch were no doubt thinking he would never even answer the recall, let alone return a changed man. He knows they had no reason to believe he’d be any different. “And I’m sure you are not the only one who was. Or, well. Maybe even is.”
He pauses and looks down at her again, angling his body a bit so that he can see her face better. “Angela...” Her name is weightless on his tongue, and he enjoys saying it, relishes it, and continues: “I appreciate your gratitude, but this is not something I expected thanks for. I am only glad you have accepted my apology and allowed me a second chance, too.”
The Black Keys / Sinister Kid
And that’s me, that’s me The boy with the broken halo That’s me, that’s me The devil won’t let me be
withhcnor.
Hanzo … doesn’t expect what follows next. Not really. He’s certain the younger is going to take what’s said and let him go, maybe mull it over, maybe not, given his less than sober state, when he feels a hand on his wrist, keeping him from leaving just yet. And that’s when he hears it, and well… sees it as well as he turns around. “Genji…” A frown crosses his features at the tears that spill from his brother’s eyes, the way he moves his hand up as if to cover it all up not really making his heart ache any less and it’s clear to him that he can’t go. Not now. Not after they’d reached that point and gotten to this one here.
The young heir turns, slowly, the grip Genji has on his wrist still very much there, before his gaze drops. How did they get where they are right now? How did their relationship turn into this … barely existant one, where they would rather stay as far apart as can be, instead of having each other’s backs like before. Hanzo shugs his shoulders slightly, unsure of what the answer to that would be. “I … I do not know.” Things just … happened. He had his own problems to deal with and Genji had his own life to lead, they just kind of … drifted apart without really meaning to, in the end.
He sighs, the frown deepening some as he listens through and he … doesn’t really need to be told so, because he knows. He knows of how Genji wants to live his life, he knows who he wants to be, he knows everything and he gets it. He really does and he’s not going to repeat himself and what he said before, instead… Hanzo turns around some more, moving so he can wrap his arms around the younger, hoping to offer the comfort Genji probably needs, uncaring for the snot and the ugly cries leaving his brother. “I know.” When had they ever been able to be so honest with each other? “I know, Genji, I … as I have said, I am merely trying to … protect you. I am sorry if I have turned too strict, it is something that is adapting that I am… not proud of.” Yet he has to be, given all that’s in store for him.
There’s a moment, a brief, terrible moment, where Genji imagines Hanzo steeling his expression the way he’s seen so many times over the last couple of years. He images Hanzo pulling his arm away, telling Genji to pull himself together, and leaving his younger brother weeping in his bedroom in the middle of the night.
But it never comes. Instead, Hanzo does quite the opposite. His expression is guarded, but not frigid, and when Genji finishes, he’s met with understanding and a warm embrace. Genji falls into it immediately, clinging to Hanzo and hiding his face against his brother’s shoulder. He weeps, body shaking in the other’s arms, and his fingers fist into the back of Hanzo’s robe, as if he’s scared the other will just fade away if he doesn’t cling. The apology warms him, the words reassure him, and he calms slowly, eventually pulling his head up from Hanzo’s shoulder, though he doesn’t yet leave the embrace.
“Protect me from what?” There’s no judgment in his tone, no venom, just genuine curiosity, and maybe a little bit of apprehension. Fear. “I—I don’t ever go out alone, and my friends never leave me with strangers for long. I mean, sometimes I get rowdy...” How many times has be come back with a split lip and bruised eye when the night ended in a fight instead of sex? Plenty. “But I—I try to be safe...”
he’s at it again……
withhcnor.
Of course Genji would know. He would know better than anyone. And Hanzo’s unsure whether that statement has him feeling any better or no, but the onslaught of emotions doesn’t seem to calm just yet. It’s toned down a significant amount, from the ugly sobs to quiet grief, but still very much there. And it’s not going to pass all so quickly either, but he has to ride it through. Has to do so, in order to pick up from the bottom and make his way up from there. He understands as much, but actually doing so is proving to be ridiculously difficult and so much worse than the archer had imagined it would be.
He hadn’t let anyone seen this before. Hell, he would have tried to keep it from Genji, had their play fight not have brought it all up, but in a way, he’s also half glad it had happened. He would much rather his own brother see him like this, than anyone else. The hand on his own does prove comforting, attention now on Genji, while he tries to quel the tears and boy, he must look … awful. Still, he listens. Pushes through even the suggestion the cyborg offers, despite him not exactly favoring … that particular approach. An Omnic. Pfeh. But it shows how much he had helped his brother and who knows? Perhaps he could do the same for him. “I … I suppose … I will … inquire about it.” Seems like a good step in trying to heal, after all.
If there was a time Genji wished he wore clothing and had pockets, that time is now. He wants to reach into a pocket and fish out a handkerchief and pass it over to his brother to clean himself up. He feels guilty, responsible for bringing all of this on, but at the same time, he’s glad Hanzo had his moment and allowed himself to feel, no matter how ugly or raw it left him.
“Even if it is not Zenyatta,” Genji presses, knowing that Zenyatta may not be the ideal for his brother. “There must be someone you can talk to, even if it’s me. I am here for you, anija. I want to help. You deserve to heal just as much as anyone else.” He wants to say that Hanzo was a victim, too, that the hierarchy of their family was made up of a bunch of manipulative elders too rooted in the past, but he doesn’t. He’s sure Hanzo will figure all of that out on his own.
“Can you stand?” Genji unfolds and rises to his feet silently. He reaches his hand down for Hanzo to take. “We should get you to the showers. Your face is a mess; if you allowed yourself to be seen like this, no doubt you would want to kill them for it.”
They Journey together, again and again